


and my heart sang an ode impossible to repeat

by icelandicc



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Angst without a happy ending, Experimental Style, Genocide, Non-Canonical Character Death, Tragedy, implied suicide, might contain spoilers for 280+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icelandicc/pseuds/icelandicc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he nearly laughed. what good was a conscience to a madman?        //post-280 alternate scenario</p>
            </blockquote>





	and my heart sang an ode impossible to repeat

Fire licked at his skin, blood dripping off Hakuyuu’s sword. This darkness had been birthed in flames; it was only fit for it die in the same way. The irony stung, to reenact his tragedy with the very blade of the one he wished so desperately to avenge. The tears swimming behind his eyes burned just as painfully as the flames.

 

          . _crying; begging; blood dripping into his eyes_

 

The sword was soaked to the hilt, and blood ran down further to Hakuryuu’s hands, his arms. White clothes were weighed down with splotches of scarlet. Bodies hung off trees, roofs, along the ground in heaps as high as Hakuryuu was tall.

The sour, beautiful scent of decay and lazy blur of heat and smoke made it difficult to discern between them, but Hakuryuu knew. Every stark white hand; every face petrified midscream; every broken neck; every grotesque wound.

Loosed black and white feathers contrasted sharply, scattered haphazardly across the scene, their owners much the same. Bodies crumpled on the ground, discarded heads with mouths open as if to lament.

A smaller one, red hair matted in blood of only a slightly darker shade, impaled upon his own sword.

 

Ha, it was a sight.

 

A small part of him wanted to go back. To try again, and make everything right. To save everyone and offer himself up in exchange. He nearly laughed. What good was a conscience to a madman?

 

_. tears were salty in his mouth, blood coppery; it was nostalgic. just another reminder._

 

One, torn limb from limb. Another, charred beyond recognition. More, smeared with dirt and blood, tear tracks burning paths down their faces.

He remembered it all; some pled; some attempted to fight back. Cries laid on deaf ears. He’d given up trying, trying to make them understand, because he’d finally come to terms with the fact that they never would.

 

He cried.

 

_. running, running running running. he was always running. the fire snuck under his skin._

 

Smiling into the stifling heat, he raised the sword once more.

 

_. when the flames caught up, the only thing he could do was bleed, watching the fire burn him away_


End file.
